The Anti-Prom - By Abby McDonald Page 0,16

at me, panicked. “Did you get caught?”

Bliss tumbles into the backseat. “No!” She laughs. “We got it!”

I glance back at the street, just to be sure, but we’re all clear. I give Meg a nod.

“Stage One is complete. Now go!”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Jolene drums an impatient rhythm on the seat beside her. “I said get the hell out of here!”

I’m wound so tight with tension, I slam my foot hard on the gas, speeding away with a painful screech. Damn. I hit the brake, overcompensating with another amateur lurch. We shudder to a halt.

“The point of a getaway car is to, you know, get away!” Jolene gives me a look of utter exasperation.

I blush. I scored perfectly on my driver’s test; my dad made me practice drills until I could parallel park in my sleep. Eighteen months without so much as a single ticket, but, of course, I have to fall apart now, when it actually matters, when they’re depending on me.

Focus, Meg!

I force myself to take a deep breath and then finally drive away like a normal human being — even remembering the obligatory pause at the stop sign at the end of the block.

“Did they suspect anything?” I ask, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“Not at all,” Jolene declares proudly. She lets out a whoop as we turn out of the quiet subdivision and head toward town, the windows down and a warm breeze whipping through the car.

“Thanks to who?” Bliss leans forward between us, her hair falling in the kind of effortless, glossy cascade it took me two hours of trying — and failing — to achieve. “Uh, my cover story was brilliant, thanks very much.”

Jolene makes a noise of protest. “And who silenced the demon child with nothing but her powers of persuasion and some sugary treats?”

“And half my emergency money!” Bliss cries, indignant.

“Whatever, like you’ll miss it.”

I exhale a slow sigh of relief as they bicker beside me. Finally, after that agonizing wait, my nerves are beginning to ease, blossoming into a kind of fluttering excitement as I absorb their rush of laughter.

We did it!

Well, they did, I correct myself. You just waited down the block, flinching every time a car passed by and wondering whether the Stanford admissions people would ever overlook a misdemeanor charge.

“So where now?” I ask, excited. “Back to prom?”

“Nope.” Bliss speaks up from the backseat. She’s got some kind of journal, and she’s flipping through the pages with a wicked smile on her face. “We’re going to Brooks. The campus is down I-32. Just make the exit out of town.”

The college? “I know where it is, but why —?”

“We’re going to deliver this little gem to Kaitlin’s boyfriend.” Bliss doesn’t even wait for me to ask the question; she’s already crowing over her grand plan. “Jason will freak when he finds out she’s been cheating. And his roommate hooks up with Brianna sometimes, so she’ll be, like, the first to find out. If we plant it so he doesn’t know it came from me, I’ll be completely clear.”

“Right,” I say quietly. I knew the high-school hierarchies were complicated, but this level of strategy and planning is almost Machiavellian. I glance in the rearview mirror again and wonder if I’m getting in over my head.

Jolene must be thinking the same thing, because she nudges me. “I’m kind of surprised you’re still with us.” She gives me a long look. “Figured maybe you’d get out and walk.”

“I said I was in,” I repeat firmly.

“Come on, you were tempted though, right?”

I shake my head. Even if the thought did cross my mind, oh, a few dozen times, I don’t want either of them to know. “We made a deal; I’m not backing out.”

I feel Jolene study me for a moment as I try not to wilt under her steady gaze, then to my relief she turns to Bliss. “Let me see it,” she orders, reaching back. Bliss hesitates, clutching the diary to her chest, but then Jolene snaps her fingers and Bliss relents.

“OK, but read it aloud. I want to hear everything!”

“‘March twenty-sixth.’” Jolene kicks her bare feet up on the dashboard and begins to read, mimicking Kaitlin’s nasal voice. “‘Brianna was bugging me all through lunch today. She wants me to fix her up with Duncan —’”

“Jason’s roommate,” Bliss adds.

“‘— but she doesn’t know he already told Jase he thinks she’s only, like, a seven. He’ll hook up with her, but he said she acts like such a slut.’ Ugh.” Jolene slams